A clean break from Tucker was for the best.
Still, I was frozen for a moment as I watched the phone vibrate on my bedside table.
I slowly reached for it and looked at the caller ID, releasing the breath I’d been holding as I read the name.
It wasn’t Tucker. It was my dad.
“Hey Dad,” I answered. “What’s wrong?” It was almost midnight and I knew he wouldn’t have called so late unless something was wrong.
“Hi, honey. I’m sorry to call so late, but I just had to talk to someone.”
I waited with baited breath, knowing that something must have really been worrying him. It was my little sister, Autumn, who he usually went to when he needed to talk, partially because she was the one always with him. Granted, I was still the oldest, and by default, the most mature. So whenever matters were more drastic, I was the one he sought.
“What is it, Dad?” I asked, not wanting to be kept in suspense any longer.
He sighed heavily. “Have you seen your cousin Brandon lately?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just a few days ago, actually. Why?”
“I just had a big blow out with him and he ran out. I’m worried about him. He’s been hanging with the wrong crowd lately and he gets testy every time I try to talk to him about it. I’m just worried he’ll end up in trouble. Of course, he thinks I’m just worried about the press and my political reputation. I can’t seem to get him to understand that I’m worried because I genuinely care.”
I bit back a sigh. Yet, what my dad was describing sounded very typical of Brandon.
Brandon was my father’s sister’s son. He hadn’t grown up with his own father, so my dad had always served as his paternal stand-in.
The problem was, my father had a rather overprotective style of parenting, which only increased tenfold after my mother died. Being the oldest, his overprotectiveness had never applied much to me though. I’d always been the solitary type and had been forced to carve out a life for myself after becoming a single parent.
Dad kept a much closer eye on Autumn and Brandon, on the other hand. Furthermore, being younger and around him more regularly, it went without saying that they were at greater risk of capturing headlines than me. Thus, it made sense that were the primary recipients of my father’s helicopter-parenting.
Autumn was good and well-mannered though, so things were always easy between her and Dad. She was his shining star, and the press loved her. Young, beautiful, and living a fairy-tale romance after meeting her Prince Charming during our father’s campaign, she was a media darling.
Brandon was a different story, and he hadn’t been reacting well to the helicopter parenting at all. He was a young man starting to form his own opinions about the world and Dad’s attempts to figuratively keep him protected in bubble-wrap was causing tension.
They’d had several blow-ups as of late, and if Dad didn’t let up, it wouldn’t get any better. And while I knew Dad genuinely cared, he still had his political reputation to look out for. The press and his opponents would have a field day running stories about his out-of-control nephew if they ever got the chance.
Deep down though, I believed Dad was most likely worried for nothing. Regardless of the act Brandon put on, he had a good head on his shoulders and wasn’t as easily swayed by others as he seemed to be.
Still, I told my father what he needed to hear. “I’ll talk to him, Dad,” I said, fully understanding my role in the family dynamics. My big sisterly duties were needed. I was expected to help Brandon ‘clean-up’ his act.
Dad sighed with relief. “Thanks, sweetie. If anyone can get through to him it’s you. You’ve been doing all right, haven’t you? No press or anything bothering you?”
“Nope. I’m doing fine. Just studying hard.”
“That’s my big girl. I always knew I’d never have to worry about you, Anna.”
***
That next morning, Brandon and I were seated at Angel’s Bakery having scones. I had kept my promise to my father about talking to Brandon, and was ready to get it over with. I figured I would check in with him, we’d eat some delicious baked goods, and he would tell me he was fine and then we could all move on.
Except when I arrived, it looked like Dad had been a least a little bit right. I noticed how tired Brandon looked. Haggard even. We sat in silence for a long time before he seemed able to muster the energy to talk.
“Let me guess? Your dad asked you to speak to me?” he said.
Looking even closer, I saw that he had lost some weight and his movements were a little nervous in nature. I frowned. “He’s just worried about you,” I said.
Brandon sighed and put his scone down as if it suddenly left a bad taste in his mouth. “God, not you too,” he groaned.
“Why are you being so defensive? I just want to know how you’re doing. You’re like a little brother to me. Why is that wrong?”